The Plot Twist
by Flyingtail
Summary: Yesterday Harry's life was perfect; Voldemort was defeated, he got his dream job, and he's working up the courage to propose to Ginny Weasley. Today he's married to Draco Malfoy. Walking with the past two months of his memory gone, the rivals find themselves in a sticky situation; and the only way out means a lot of spooning, karaoke, and cookie dough. Hold on to your hats.
1. Chapter 1

Harry opened his eyes slowly, squinting as sunlight streamed in through the slits of the window. He didn't know where he was, what day it was, or why his body hurt so much. Groaning slightly, he propped himself up on his elbows, groping for his glasses. Finally, his fingers closed on them, and grimacing, he unfolded them, shoving him up his nose.

He dragged his feet out of bed, stretching as he stumbled towards the dresser. Pulling his rumpled shirt off, he pulled it down around his head, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Even as his senses started to come to him, he couldn't remember what had happened the night before. Or the day before.

Someone moaned behind him.

Freezing, Harry grabbed his wand, turning his head slowly to glance over his shoulder. In the shadows, a figure in the bed propped themselves up, rubbing their forehead. They glanced up and became rigid.

Draco started swearing loudly, pulling the loose blankets and sheets up around his bare pale body, eyes wide. "Potter! What the-what are you doing in here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry said, choking on his words. He tried to back away, but bumped into the dresser behind him. Draco's blush deepened.

"Get out! I'm not wearing anything, get out and close the door you moron!" he shrieked, holding the blankets closer.

Throwing his hands up defensively, Harry raced from the room, slamming the door behind him. The hallway beyond was small, and completely unfamiliar. He hesitated before opening the next door; but there were no more naked surprises through here, only a living room and a kitchenette, light streaming in from one windowed wall.

Dirty dishes lay abandoned in piles by the sink, some with half-eaten food still rotting on them. Other than that, the small room was somewhat clean, if clearly lived in. There was a couch on the wall adjacent the window, and paintings and mirrors hung on the wall.

Harry stepped in, collapsing on the couch. Leaning forward, he glanced at the coffee table. An abandoned wand-Draco's, maybe?-lay askew on one side, nearly fallen off. Harry moved the two dirty glasses, both empty, picking up the top magazine from the small stack beneath. He rubbed his glasses, trying to make sense of the cover.

On it was a blown up photo of himself, laughing, grinning. But he wasn't alone in the picture; his arms were around Malfoy, who seemed to be wearing Harry's glasses. They both wore dress robes, white rose corsages pinned to their shoulders. The picture moved, as pictures were known to do, he and Malfoy leaning in, noses brushing. Malfoy whispered something into the Harry's ear, making him blush furiously in the image. But it was the title that was the most confusing.

"What the bloody-" Draco swore as he came in, rubbing his forehead. "Potter-what day is it?" Harry glanced up at the bleary eyed wizard, eyes narrowed.

"Since when are we married?"

Draco froze for a moment, then in three long strides crossed the room, snatching the magazine from Harry's hands. He flipped to the title article, eyes flickering across as he muttered under his breath. "Twist of the year... Wizarding world's favorite celebrity... dating in secret... massive scandal!? Potter what did you do?"

Harry shot to his feet, glaring. "What did I do? I definitely didn't do anything in there," he snaps.

Draco rubbed his temples, still staring at the magazine. "April issue? But it's May!" He let out a noise of confused rage, throwing the magazine at the wall. It knocked down one of the decorative mirrors, cracking the glass. "If someone doesn't explain what's going on I'm going to get pissed!"

Collapsing back into the couch, Harry closed his eyes. "Shut up and let me think Malfoy. There's got to be an explanation. This can't be real."

There was a loud sound of pots being moved around, and then a word I oughtn't repeat when Draco hit his toe on a stool. "You shut up! I'm going to get some food!"

Harry straightened, shooting a dead pan look in the direction of the kitchen. "You can't be serious. At a time like-wait, what's that?"

Draco dropped the pan on the stove, jolted. "What's what?" he sneered. "Find another magazine? Are we dead, too?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry stood, crossing the room to the apartment door. An envelope and a key were taped to the door. Pulling down both, Harry glanced at the key before tucking it in his pocket.

"Give that here," Draco said, suddenly snatching it out of Harry's hands. "What does it say?"

"I'll tell you when I've opened it," Harry said, reaching to grab the letter back. Draco ignored him, sitting down at the table, popping the seal. Harry walked over, leaning to read over his shoulder.

Draco unfolded the letter carefully, smoothing the creases gracefully. He paused, then began reading aloud. "Misters Malfoy-Potter;

"You are both no doubt confused, and more than a little concerned. I assure you, you must not worry. All will be explained, and I sincerely hope you understand what is written here.

"The past few months or so is no doubt lost to your memories, so I'll do my best to elaborate. Today is June the third; for reasons I do not wish to disclose, I, with the help of some colleagues, cast an Imperio curse over you each. To keep a rather long winding story short, the two of you are now married as you may have learned from the magazines on the coffee table. And you will stay that was for as long as we find necessary." For a moment Draco's voice broke, then he continued.

"Draco; we have both of your parents. Harry; we have Hermione Granger. We will keep them as leverage until our ends our met-images and short notes from each are inclosed. If you tell anyone, especially the Ministry, they will die. Do not attempt to end the marriage. Wishing you well, a secret friend."

There was a moment of silence as Draco pulled out the pictures, handing one to Harry. On each, the mentioned captives were shown, bound and gagged, tied to chairs. It was Harry who broke the silence.

"Well shit."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was being productive. He'd gotten out scratch paper and a quill, and started scratching notes of any enemy he'd ever made, trying to brainstorm motives. It was a rather extensive list, and more than half were in Azkaban, but he needed to do something, and it was really the only thing to do.

Draco on the other hand, was busy making a mess.

Harry ducked as a pot nearly hit him over the head as it soared past, headed to the sink where it began scrubbing himself. The apartment was full of a cacophony of clangs and bangs, cookery whistling through the air to clean itself.

"What're you doing?" snapped Harry, dropping his quill in the ink pot. "Newsflash, banging pots and pans together isn't going to help!"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Draco said, tossing a glare as he flicked his wand. "I'm cooking!"

A coffee pot floating past overhead began to tilt, suddenly emptying half of it's contents into Harry's lap. "That was an accident," deadpanned Draco, the amusement in his eyes saying otherwise.

Harry swore loudly as he jumped to his feet, grimacing. It wasn't scolding hot, but it definitely hurt. Swearing as if words were bullets, he stormed back into the bedroom, questing to find a new pair of pants.

Meanwhile, Draco continued his rein of terror in the kitchen. If it was dirty before, it was a disaster zone. The dishes in the sink were still dirty, but now they were caked with calico patters of suds. Cracked eggs seemed to hit the counter as often as they hit the pan. And the couch was suffering from the poured coffee incident just as much as Harry.

Despite the mess, by the time Harry had licked his wounded pride and found a new pair of pants, Draco was triumphant. Caked in flour, shirt stained with egg, he strode up to the table. "I made breakfast," he announced proudly, using his wand to float the meal to the table.

There were three fried eggs in a pan, burnt so firmly to the bottom they refused to yield. Bacon lay neatly on a plate, more raw than crispy. A half filled coffee pot that smelled like a dead rat sat in the middle of the table, a center piece. It also happened to be cracked and leaking, something it most definitely had not been before.

"I'm not hungry," lied Harry, forcing himself to smile. "I uh, had a really big dinner last night."

"Liar," Draco snapped. "You can't remember what we had for dinner last night anymore than I can-now eat it and like it, or I'll cast a tongue-tying curse on you."

"Seriously, Malfoy, have you ever cooked before-ever?" Harry asked as he pushed to his feet, gesturing at the carnage on the table. "And don't say you have because you haven't."

"Fine, we won't eat it, but there's nothing else edible in this stupid apartment, and I'm not going out until we've eaten," Draco said firmly, crossing his arms and stomping his foot like a child.

Harry considered this; it would be nice to be able to ditch Draco in the apartment-but he was hungry too. Heading over to the fridge, he pulled both drawers open. It was nearly empty, all but for a stock of parsley and some aged potion ingredients, and a roll of prepackaged frozen cookie dough.

Ripping off the cover, he broke it in half, tossing one of the cookie dough sticks to Draco. "Bonaparte," he said, taking a large bite.

"It's bon appetite, you idiot," Draco snapped, holding the cookie dough was if it were a dead ferret. "You realize how bad this stuff for you is?"

"Why, cause it's Muggle food?"

"No, because it's nine parts sugar! This stuff would throw your mood way out of whack, not to mention the fat content is huge-"

"Malfoy, since when are you a health nut?" asked Harry as he took another bite, genuinely surprised.

Draco's pale countenance flushed. "My last girlfriend was big on healthy eating," he muttered. After a moment hesitation, he started in on eating his own cookie dough stick. "What do we do next? There's got to be someway to figure out who did this-and trust me, once we do, I'm breaking their neck."

"Only if I don't first," Harry said, playing with one of the chocolate chips. "I made a list of people it might be, how about you come take a look?"

"Not until I finish my cookie dough."


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time in much too long, Harry was alone. It was a relief to not have to listen to Draco going on and on, cursing Harry and whoever was manipulating them in turns. If one were to pay attention to his whining you might even think that this was Harry's fault!

He kept his hood pull up high over his head, his face down low. He'd prefer not to be recognized, not while this ridiculous marriage business was going on. Chewing the tip of his thumb, he stared at his half drained mug of fire whisky. It hadn't done much to improve his splitting headache. If anything it was worse, and the usual din that always hung in the air of the Leaky Cauldron wasn't much helping.

Lifting it to his mouth, he started into on a long slow chug of the fizzy liquid. As he drank hard, he heard a creak as someone took the stool next to him. "A mug of butterbeer, for me," came a low, tired voice.

Harry nearly choked on his drink. He coughed and wheezed hard as he tried to right his burning throat, grimacing as the fire whisky burned it's way down his lungs. "You all right mate?" the voice to his left asked, but all he could do was cough some more.

Taking a hard deep breath to clear his throat, he lifted a corner of the hood he was wearing, breaking into a grin at the familiar mop of red hair. "Ron? Is that you?"

His greeting was a punch to the face.

A tall skinny witch wearing an apron and cleaning a nearby table huffed, folding her arms. "No fighting inside, take it out back. And no duels on the property, either," she said, rolling her eyes.

Ron jerked his head towards the back door before storming out. After a hesitant moment, Harry got back to his feet, following cautiously. They stood in the space between Diagon Alley and the wizard's pub, the wall hiding the street beyond. Ron stood beside a rubbish bin, arms folded as he glared at Harry, fuming./span/div

"Mind explaining what that was for?" Harry said as he pulled off his hood, rubbing his cheek with a wince.

Ron's look turned to absolute disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Harry shrugged, pulling off his glasses to try and adjust the now-crooked frame. Ron had quite the punch these day. Hermione probably coached him or something.

The disbelief turned to anger, even more vehement than before. His face was almost as red as his hair, eyes bulging. "How about disappearing for months without a word, huh? Or getting married to Malfoy-while you're still dating my sister! Do you have any idea how confusing and terrifying it is to wake up and find out you married him?"

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Harry said, grimacing.

"It's bad enough that Hermione's gone missing, but it also turns out I don't know my best friend at all! Ginny acts like she's fine, like it doesn't bother her, but you've completely broken her! She's miserable!"

Harry couldn't help wincing at that. Ginny had definitely crossed his mind more than once. It looked like he was going to have to put off proposing, then. Not to mention Hermione; he more or less knew what happened to her. "Look, I'm really sorry Ron. It came as a surprise to me too."

Ron blinked, confusion returning to his face. "Wait, why were you surprised?"

"I swear I'll explain everything as soon as I can, but I can't yet," he said, taking a deep breath. "I know it's all confusing and frustrating, but we're figuring things out. You trust me, right?"

Ron gave him a long deep look, considering this carefully, arms crossed. "You haven't exactly given me a reason to these past few months," he pointed out bitterly.

"Ron-"

"But I do." Ron took a deep breath, raising a hand to his forehead. "But when you do give me your explanation, it better be fantastic. I'm going to tell Ginny I ran into you. What am I supposed to say?"

Harry winced again, leaning up against the wall. "Beats me." He wanted to tell Ron to give her his love, but he wasn't exactly in a position to do that, was he?

"Women," sighed Ron, slumping against the opposite wall. "Why can't they make sense? They're miserable but don't want comfort, and some go and disappear for months at a time."

The sadness in Ron's eyes was unmistakable, and Harry felt an urge to spill everything-but for all he knew, whoever was behind this was spying on them, making sure he didn't say anything. He couldn't tell him where Hermione was. It would only make things worse.

"Speaking of, sorry I haven't sent you any letters. Again, that explanation's going to have to come later. In the mean time, you wouldn't mind if I kept you posted?" Harry said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ron glanced up in surprise, pausing. "Yeah, sure." He straightened up, pulling out his wand. "I better get going. I'm meeting George for lunch. And Harry?"

Harry lifted his head, blowing his bangs from his eyes as he tipped his head to the side. "What is it?"

"If you're in some kind of trouble, which you always are, just owl me, alright?" With those parting words, Ron tapped his wand against the bricks of the wall, and before they'd even finished shifting around, he ducked through and passed out of sight.

Letting out a long slow breath, Harry flipped up his hood, smiling absentmindedly. Ron knew him way too well. He was musing to himself about ways to explain to Ron without anyone finding out when another hooded figure strode up to him, carrying a large sack of magazines.

As the wall closed behind him, Draco threw off his hood, nodded to Harry, and threw down the sack. Stretching, he grunted a bit. "I bumped into one of the Weasley's on the street. You didn't say anything, did you? If my parents die because you can't keep quiet, I'll break you."

Harry rolled his eyes, putting his glasses back on. "I'm not an idiot Malfoy. What's with all the magazines?"

Draco looked at the sack in disgust as he pulled out his wand. "Celebrity magazines. Apparently there's a rumor that we're going to adopt or some nonsense. I bought as many as I could, but they'd already sold a couple of copies." With a flick of his wand and a quite muttered incantation, the bag and it's magazines were swallowed in a green flame, dozens of miniature Dracos and Harrys fleeing the covers as the images they inhabited burned away.

"We don't have time to waste trying to get rid of magazines, Malfoy. We need to focus on finding out who did this. Where'd you get the money for all those anyway?"

Draco smiled smugly as he tucked his wand away. "Since we're legally married, I'm allowed to access your vault in Gringotts."


End file.
